Interlude in Lorien
by Amrunofthesummercountry
Summary: Short, fluffy one shot ficlet. After Gandalf's fall, Frodo is lulled to a serene place in the Golden Wood. Unexpectedly, he finds that hope still lives in the heart of one gardener


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Interlude at Lorien

A/N: Greetings! For those fans of S&C, this is not really meant to go with the story; rather it is a plot bunny that bit me rather hard while I was watching a scene from Final Fantasy X. Now, I can't stand that game, but the scene did inspire me. Be warned, this is a slash fic, although it is fairly light, as usual. It has always been my personal opinion that Lorien was a turning point for Frodo and Sam's friendship in the books. Surely, by the time they leave they are closer than they were before. Weather that is because of the grief over losing Gandalf or some other reason, I don't know. Still, in all my fics you will see the stay in Lorien as a turning point it the relationship, platonic or otherwise. 

I have been shirking my other fics, I'm afraid, but they should be up shortly! ::Trots off to type up chapters of neglected fics.:: 

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Frodo walked alone through Lorien under the golden mallon trees now shining silver in the glow of the moon. The wood was safe, protected by the power of the Lady of Light, but even in that fair land the hobbit found little peace. His mind was constantly wracked by memories of the journey so far, and of the journey he knew lay before him. During the day, there were other things to keep his mind occupied, whether it be the elves or one of the other members of the Fellowship. The serenity of the Golden Wood eased the weight of the ring bearer's burden, but he knew it was there and he knew what it had caused. Gandalf's absence was a constant and painful reminder. Even in Lorien, Frodo knew, the evil of the Ring did not sleep. And so, neither would he. 

So he walked alone, stepping daintily over rock and root, careful to disturb nothing that grew. He did not know where he was headed; one normally didn't in Lothlorien. You just wandered until the forest got you were it wanted you to be. It seemed that way, at least. Shoving his hands deep inside his trouser pockets, Frodo gazed up at the stars. They stretched on and on; an endless blanket of far away candles. When Sam had been very young, Frodo had told him that each star was a candle lit in memory of one who had passed on. The hobbit wondered, did Gandalf have a candle up there?

Somewhere, a voice was singing. One of the elves, no mistake. He could make out very few of the words with the voice's foreign accent but the soul of the song touched his heart and lightened it a little. His feet picked up a bit and he ran a hand through his curls. 

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le man na harma tan ve i eleni....

The voice almost seemed to be singing directly to him. The words danced about him and lifted more of the weight from around his neck. 

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Hae marello lumbulesse.....

*There now, Baggins, you have got to be strong. You've a long way to go.* Frodo told himself. Much was relying on him. He had to find a way, somehow. 

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Agarwaen macil caita ar le...

The path before him began to widen and the trees parted. Where had he gone, Frodo wondered. He had not seen this place before. In the center of the grove of white-barked trees was a small pool, clear as the water in the Lady's mirror. Frodo perceived that he could seen to the bottom; it wasn't very deep, perhaps waist high on a hobbit but a fine washing pool for the elves. Grass and smooth stones decorated the edge of the water, and between two rocks grew three of the white_ elanor _flowers that Frodo had seen on the hill with Aragorn. On a whim he approached them, then bent to take in their scent. The smell eased some of the tension from him and he straightened up to take another look at the water. It rippled every so slightly as if it were waving to Frodo. Gingerly, the hobbit knelt again and glided his fingers over the clear surface. The water felt pleasant to the touch. Without much thought as to weather his actions were appropriate or not Frodo slipped his shirt off and let it fall to the ground beside the _elanor_ flowers. Then delicately he stepped into the cool water and let it pool around his ankles. He was amazed at how refreshing it felt and walked in a little ways deeper. It lapped joyously at his knees and then at the last, when he stood in the middle of the pool, around his waist. A tiny smile graced the hobbit's lips, one of the very few since Moria, and he scooped up the kind liquid into his hands and raised them, letting the water spill through his fingers. The droplets hit the water with a happy little ping and Frodo turned around in the water, feeling it swirl and churn around him. On a whim he splashed upward and let the drops rain down on him, wetting his hair and cascading down his cheeks. 

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Nalliel telep eleni...

The unidentified elvish voice sang on. Frodo's smile grew as he splashed water onto his face, then plunging his arms down deep he even laughed a little. The moon shined down on the frolicking hobbit. Earendil smiled on him. 

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Cal foroth mornie...

Then suddenly the weight came back, causing Frodo to double over. The fair elvish voice faded away, and the only thing that could be heard for a moment was the angry, hateful voice of the Ring growling "_Ash...ash...._"

"No!" Frodo cried aloud and clutched at the chain around his neck as if to shield unfriendly eyes from seeing it. Angry and ashamed tears stung at the hobbit's eyes. Would he be allowed to remission from the cursed thing? Would it always be there like a beacon before his eyes, never silent for long, always causing anguish and pain not only to himself but to all those he held dear? He hated it, oh how he hated it, hated what it did, hated what it was. It hung round his neck like a noose, forever ready to tighten and strangle if ever he stepped out of line and allowed himself some respite or happiness. How could he ever be free of it? Everyone said that to be free of it he must through it into the fires of Mount Doom, but how could he when he was so terrified of the journey there that he could not even see the actual end of it? Frodo's knees began to feel weak. Still clutching the Ring, he lowered himself until the water was to his shoulders. Tears trembled on his dark lashes, but by pure stubbornness the hobbit refused to let them fall. 

A soft sound by the edge of the pool caught Frodo's attention. Looking up, he saw the one he had expected to see there: Samwise Gamgee looking a cross between very concerned and very guilty, like he had been caught somewhere he shouldn't be. The gardener hovered on the balls of his feet as if he were unsure if he should rush in there and help Frodo or tiptoe quietly away. Frodo bit back a sob and straightened up. The sight of his friend had brought back the memory of Gandalf and the premonition of what could befall Sam if the Ring were allowed near him. Frodo had already lost one dear friend; he could not bear to lose another. The Ring was very cruel, and just the thought of the havoc it could reek on one as innocent as Sam made Frodo pale and back away, trying to hide his own tears. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam was saying hesitantly, seeing his Master back away. "I didn't mean to scare you none. I just woke up, and you weren't there, and so I had to make sure you were alright, if you understand me."

Frodo looked away. He felt ready to break down at any moment and he did not want Sam to witness it. Frodo wished he could at least release the Ring (surely he looked like a rabid animal clutching it like that) but his hand refused to obey his internal commands. Instead, he turned away so that his back, still bare and dripping with water, was facing the gardener. 

"Well, I'm alright, Sam. You may go back now," Frodo said. He knew by the lack of noise that Sam had not moved and was most likely still watching his employer with eyes shining with worry. Frodo shifted uncomfortably. Faithful Samwise, always worrying and always there. Frodo was the elder one by many years, yet it always appeared that the lad was the one taking care of him. *How wretchedly pitiful,* Frodo thought. *No wonder Gandalf had him come along with me. I would be lost without Sam, so lost. I wonder if Gandalf.....knew that.....* A sob lodged itself in Frodo's throat, causing his shoulders to jump conspicuously in the process. 

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam ventured. Frodo could not answer. The sorrow that had dissipated when he had first stepped into the pool had returned three fold. Gandalf was already gone, and Frodo must either leave Sam behind or take him with him to certain death. Either choice seemed too much to so much as think of. How could he be free of the burden? He could not do it alone, but he must. "To bear a Ring of power is to be alone," the Lady had said. Now Frodo understood her words all to clear. The thing would destroy everyone until only he, Frodo, was left to its mercy. 

"Mr. Frodo, sir?" Sam seemed close to tears himself. It broke his heart to see his beloved master in such a state. 

Frodo knew he had to say something, anything. He turned back to face Sam slowly, attempting to get his despair under control. He raised his shining eyes to Sam's face and whispered only "Sam...." before the dam broke and everything spilled out in a mess of tears and trembling shoulders. Sam was to him in three steps and within seconds his strong arms had encircled the frailer hobbit. Frodo could do nothing but sob. Everything he had pent up inside since Gandalf had fallen came bursting out and soon he could not stop crying. 

"I cannot, do this Sam. I am not strong enough. It's too heavy for me, Sam, far too heavy." Frodo still stood stiffly, hand still clutching the Ring. He turned his gaze downwards and stared at the clasped hand, wishing something would come along and simply snatch it off, ring and all. Sam put his large hand over Frodo's pale one. Then with his other hand he tilted Frodo's chin up so that they were eye to eye. 

"Don't you listen to it, Mr. Frodo. Don't you listen to none of it. Its lies. Those're lies that thing is tellin' you. You are strong enough, Mr. Frodo. You thinkin' you aren't just goes to prove that you got something all those big powerful folk don't. You've got humility, sir, and plain hobbit sense. You think you aren't strong enough, sir, when that just makes you stronger and tougher all the more. The only thing stoppin' you from seein' that is the lies it tells. Don't you listen to it!" Sam's grip on Frodo's hand tightened gently. Frodo stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what it was Sam was saying. Sam still had faith in him, even after Moria when his decision and his burden had caused the company great pain. Frodo's grip loosened on the ring and tears overflowed in his eyes again. He let go of the precious thing all together and let his arms fall limply to his sides. Sam drew him into a hug again and this time Frodo buried his face in the gardener's now damp shirt and sobbed. 

"Nothin' was your fault, Mr. Frodo. No matter what may happen, nothin' will ever be your fault either. You just remember that." Sam hushed as he brushed his hand through Frodo's curls. "Its okay to be afraid, sir. You don't have to be alone in your fear. I'm here, and I'm plenty scared, but as long as I'm alive, and you're alive, there's always goin' to be some hope left. And your Sam isn't going to let anything happen to you, nor is he goin' anywhere, so you're always gonna have hope, sir." 

They stood in the middle of the elvish pool for a long time, two hobbit, the water, and the moonlight. After a time, Frodo calmed himself a bit, but he still did not pull away. He gave in at the last and let himself sink against Sam's chest and listen to the strong, steady beat of his heart. Beat. Sam was alive. Sam had hope. Sam _was_ hope. Beat. They were alive. They were together. Life prevailed. Beat. The air was chill on Frodo's bare back but Sam's arms were warm, so warm and safe. If Sam was there, then it was alright. Yes, Frodo was certain that Gandalf had known. He had to have known. To Frodo, Samwise was the daylight and the moonlight, the strength behind his steps in Moria, the watcher of his dreams in Rivendell. Beat. Sam kissed the top of Frodo's head and rubbed his back comfortingly. Frodo felt as if he were in the arms of an angel. He looked up, slowly; his eyes tinged red from crying and his cheeks flushed light pink. Sam gave him a soft smile. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned up, capturing Sam's lips with his own. After a surprised moment, Sam kissed back. Frodo clung to his Sam tightly, as if he were to let go the gardener would vanish. The two of them melded together and for one blissful minute they were not Frodo and Sam, but one and the same. They were not hobbit, not master and servant; they simply were. It was a moment that felt so right that both of them felt complete and whole; a togetherness that seemed absurd to part. 

When at last they parted, Sam's face was flushed bright red and Frodo knew that he was blushing as well. He laid his head on Frodo's shoulder and exhaled a shuddery breath. The ring burned between them, but for once Frodo did not feel its heat. 

"_Le man na harma tan ve i eleni...._" Frodo whispered against Sam's shoulder, recalling the words of the elf song he had heard earlier that night. "_Cal faroth mornie...."_

One never knew where they were headed in Lothlorien. The paths seemed to take you where they wanted you to be. Or perhaps it was the person who formed the way of the paths to where they wanted to end up. Either way, magic had happened at the washing pool that night. And it was no elvish magic, but the magic of a love realized at the last and of a strength and hope rekindled. 

The End

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Translations:

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Le man na harma tan ve i eleni: thee who is treasured as high as the stars

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Hae marello lumbulesse: Far from home in shadow

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Agarwaen macil caita ar le: Bloodstained sword lies beside thee

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Nalliel telep eleni: Crying silver-like stars

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Cal faroth mornie: Light pursue darkness

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Ash...ash...: (black speech) One...one...

I wrote and translated that song myself. My elvish is far from perfect, so forgive me and correct me if I translated something incorrectly. It was originally supposed to go along with the Shelob scene in the Two Towers, but I found it could go along with Gandalf's fall or a lament of the elves. When I wrote the song, I had the love theme from Braveheart stuck in my head so I sort of goes to that tune, in my head anyways. 


End file.
